


1-Up

by ignipes



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-11
Updated: 2008-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're like, I don't know, the way Super Mario is with those mushrooms, that's totally you and hugs."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1-Up

Brendon came out of the shower to find Jon sitting on one of the beds, drinking a beer and watching television.

"Oh," he said. "Hi." Brendon tried to remember if he should be as surprised as he felt. It had been a cruelly and unusually long day, and if there had been a conversation about who was in what room Brendon had missed it. By the time they reached the hotel, he hadn't been thinking about anything except showering and crawling into bed and hibernating until spring, or at least until morning.

"Hey," Jon said. Then his smile faded. "What?"

"What what?"

"You look surprised," Jon said. "Or, I don't know, something. Sorry, dude, but you're stuck with me."

"I'm not--" Brendon stopped, because he was, a little, but it was no big deal. "It's just, you're not hanging out with Ryan tonight?" As soon as he said it, he immediately wished he hadn't because, wow, way to sound pathetic.

If Jon noticed, he was nice enough to pretend otherwise. "I'm hanging with you tonight," he said evenly. "Besides, they're having an argument about Halloween costumes. It was getting pretty ugly, so I got out of there while I still could." He shuddered dramatically, or tried to, but it ended up looking more like a lazy shrug.

Brendon laughed a little and nodded in sympathy. "That was very smart of you. A trip to the emergency room isn't fun for anybody." Most of the time Ryan and Spencer got along like creepy mind-melded twins, but there were those rare occasions when they would fight--usually about something of great and terrible importance, like the nutritional merits of apple juice or the precise species of cloud animals--and then no innocent bystanders were safe. Brendon always tried to run away and hide too; he was man enough to admit it. But: "Halloween costumes, really? It's February."

"I don't know, man," Jon said. He waved his beer bottle idly, tracing a weird, nonsensical squiggle in the air. "I just heard something about prom dresses and hair extensions, and I ducked and ran."

"Smart of you," Brendon said. At the very same second he remembered he'd said that already, and he was still standing awkwardly at the foot of Jon's bed with a damp towel in one hand. His own bed was, unfortunately, almost completely buried beneath the debris of his exploded suitcase. He was weighing the pros and cons of sleeping on top of the mess when he realized Jon was staring at him--or, more likely, trying to look through him, because Brendon was standing right in front of the TV. "Oh, sorry," he said, stepping quickly to the side. "I didn't--"

"Hey, no problem." Jon patted the bed beside him. "Have a seat. Pull up a pillow. Rest your weary... whatever. Whatever you have that's weary. Toes? Toes can get weary."

Brendon laughed again, but he wasn't about to turn down that invitation. He dropped his towel on the floor and crawled up the bed. "My _everything_ is weary, Jon Walker, not just my toes. We need to talk to somebody about hiring some strapping guys to carry me around all day. You know, in one of those fancy chairs with curtains around it. What are we watching?"

"Extinct giant birds," Jon said, gesturing at the television with his beer bottle. "You know there used to be giant birds in New Zealand that were ten feet tall?"

"Like Big Bird? Cool. I bet they had awesome feathers." Brendon punched and scrunched the flat hotel pillow around until it began pretending to be an actual pillow. He sort of half-slumped against the headboard of the bed, not exactly leaning on Jon but not exactly _not_ leaning on Jon. "It's sad they're extinct," he went on, "but I think I'm also glad we don't have to worry about being eaten by giant birds."

"I would totally protect you from giant birds," Jon said. On the television there was a drawing of a vulture the size of a small truck; it had some seriously scary eyes. "I mean, if they didn't eat me first."

"They wouldn't dare," Brendon said confidently. "I would protect you too. They couldn't get both of us, not even that one with the horn-beak-thing."

The menacing bird with the horn-beak-thing faded away, and a car commercial came on in its place.

"Hey," Jon said, and Brendon glanced over. Jon set his beer on the bedside table and did a quick scoot-wriggle thing to sit up a little. "C'mere."

"I _am_ here," Brendon pointed out.

"No, I mean, come _here_."

And before he could ask again, Jon reached out with both hands and hauled Brendon over, wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

"Mmmph," Brendon said. He turned his head so he wasn't talking into Jon's shirt and repeated, "Um, hi?"

"You looked like you needed a hug," Jon said. His voice was soft and rumbled pleasantly through his chest.

Brendon squirmed around into a more comfortable position, resting his head against Jon's shoulder and wrapping one arm over Jon's belly. He was stupidly pleased that Jon didn't even try to let go. "'M fine," he said quietly.

"Nah, man, I mean it," Jon said. "You're like, I don't know, the way Super Mario is with those mushrooms, that's totally you and hugs."

"Mushrooms?" Brendon thought about it for a second. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Yeah." When Jon nodded, his chin bumped against Brendon's head. "I mean, I've totally noticed, instead of mushrooms for extra lives and stuff, you need hugs to be, well, _you_ , like you are."

"And for growing big," Brendon added, because Jon wasn't making very much sense, so he didn't have to either. He didn't want to think about what Jon was or wasn't noticing, and getting a surprise hug from Jon was pretty nice, so he only said, "But I gotta say, I'm not really into hitting my head on brick blocks, at least not on purpose."

"Well, I didn't say it was a perfect metaphor," Jon admitted. "You want one of those, you should ask Ryan."

"I really shouldn't," Brendon said. "Last time I did he started talking about prostitutes and eggplant and I had no fucking idea what was going on."

"Aubergine dreams," Jon said solemnly.

"Aubergine dreams," Brendon agreed. A second later, they both cracked up in a fit of giggles. Feeling Jon laugh was even nicer than feeling him talk, and Brendon closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly. "You give really good hugs."

Jon was quiet for a little bit, rubbing one hand slowly up and down Brendon's back. "You were, just, you were looking kind of small."

"Oh. I'm really--"

"Yeah." Jon squeezed him a little tighter. "Sometimes we notice things even when you don't want us to."

"We?"

"Me. I. The imperial we. Does it matter?"

It mattered if Jon was there only because he drew the short straw of cheer-up-Brendon duty. Or it should, it really should, but Brendon shook his head. "No. It's not--no."

"Good, 'cause I'd hate to have to give up and leave now," Jon said.

There was a pause, quiet and still because Jon was holding his breath, then he turned his head quickly and kissed Brendon's forehead.

"Did you just--" Brendon snapped his head up and twisted around to stare at Jon. "Jon Walker."

"Um." Jon bit his lip sheepishly, but his eyes were laughing. "Maybe?"

"Maybe?"

"Maybe."

" _Maybe_ isn't one of the answers, Mr. Imperial We."

Jon shoved at Brendon's arm. "You're crushing my sternum with your elbow."

"Don't change the subject."

"What's the subject?" Jon asked, his expression the picture of perfect innocence.

Brendon narrowed his eyes; Jon was definitely laughing on the inside. Jon was an expert at laughing on the inside, but this time at least Brendon was pretty sure Jon wasn't laughing at him.

"Yeah," he said, "okay."

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but Brendon leaned forward and kissed him before he made a sound. Jon tasted like beer and he didn't react at first, not at all, and Brendon had a split-second panic of _oh, shit, totally read that wrong_. Then Jon brought a hand up to curl around the back of Brendon's neck and, wow, okay, maybe he read that one right after all.

"Hmmm," Brendon said, pulling back.

Jon's hand kept him from going too far. "Wait, what? Don't stop."

"Not as good as your hugs, to be honest."

Jon laughed. "Whatever, I'm handicapped. You're still crushing me."

Brendon leaned down to kiss him again, muttered, "You're such a wimp," against his lips.

"Shut up," Jon replied.

"A bossy wimp." But Brendon wasn't about to argue, so he shut up.


End file.
